Reflections of my Childhood

by Stefanie Burger

Traveling to Italy was a nightmare; there were missed flights, long delays, motion sickness and anxiety for what felt like days. I arrived in Florence late with no roommate (she experienced nearly the same thing) and no idea who I was supposed to meet, how I was supposed to meet them or if these people really even existed. I was completely isolated and felt as though I had made a mistake by coming to this foreign country alone.  I cried and cried and threw a little self-doubt in the mix just for the heck of it.  Florence was not my friend but 24 hours later there was a knock on the door and my roommate had arrived! Together, we discussed our own experiences of dissonance within our travels, getting stuck in other countries and having little to no understanding about what we were doing there. It was somewhat soothing and a form of peer therapy. 

 

The next morning, we hopped on a bus and traveled to Cagli. I was skeptical since my experience in Florence was so lack luster and the disconnect between me and the locals was so large. Imagine my surprise when we arrive in Cagli and I fall in love with the city. I grew up in a European family, my father’s maternal side was predominantly Italian and my Mother’s parents were both from Holland/Dutch East Indies and spoke very little English. I had expected to feel comfortable in any European culture because of the way I grew up and when I didn’t feel that connection in Florence the way I had on previous study abroad excursions or growing up in general, I was disappointed. 

But wait! As my roommate and I strolled around the Piazza, I noticed the wall full of old men, sitting, talking and observing the daily business of their town square and my heart felt immediately healed. This moment seems so small to some but the men on that wall represent an aspect of my childhood that made me feel as though Cagli was my home. My grandfather (Opa), nearly identically dressed in the slacks, sweater vest and Italian sunglasses would sit in a velvet upholstered, bright orange arm chair on his front porch and would simply watch the world. This was a routine every afternoon and was only interrupted for one of three reasons; when my grandmother’s (Oma) kisses were aimed in his direction, her food was done cooking or a soccer game was on the TV inside. 

One man sitting on the wall simply smiled in my direction and later than evening a few of the men came to start a conversation with me. In that moment, the idea of cultural dissonance disappeared, the language barrier vanished and I was simply sitting in my hometown enjoying the company of my family and

friends. Since that moment, Cagli has been my home, the Cagliese are my friends and the community is my heart.